


Inverse

by mylittlecthulhu (marineko)



Series: Mathematics of Love [11]
Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marineko/pseuds/mylittlecthulhu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jun finds a weird sculpture in his front door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inverse

**Author's Note:**

> inverse. 1. reversed in order, 2. (mathematics) a function that undoes another function, 3. inverted; to be turned upside down.

There’s a weird sculpture in front of his door.  
  
There’s a weird sculpture. Right in front. Jun blinks at it, closes the front door, and counts to ten before opening it again. He had hoped that it’s just sleepiness and a slight hangover playing tricks on him, but no. It’s still there. He stares for a moment, and closes his door again.  
  
Maybe if he ignores it long enough, it’ll go away.  
  
Or Aiba would see it, like it, and take it home next door.   
  
As Jun finishes his first cup of coffee, he remembers that Aiba isn’t supposed to be back until the next morning. He sighs, and pours himself a second cup.  
  
By his fifth cup, Jun catches himself biting his lips as he stares out his window. He shakes his head, and turns his back to the window. It doesn’t mean anything, he thinks. He’s just curious, that’s all. Because seriously, what could Ohno be _thinking_.  
  
He places his cup in the sink, neglecting to run water over it before stepping gingerly towards his front door. He’s careful as he opens the door just a fraction, enough to peek out and confirm that the sculpture is still there.  
  
He sighs. Ohno is some sort of genius; he knows that because everyone keeps saying it. And sure enough, Ohno’s art is impressive. That still doesn’t mean that he wants them in his apartment. Where would he even keep it?  
  
A breeze passes by, and a soft flickering sound catches his attention. Apparently, the mouth of the – thing – has a piece of paper in it. He opens the door wider, and reaches for the paper. It’s rolled up like a scroll, with a bit of string holding it together.  
  
Jun pulls at the string, half-hoping for it to say that it’s a joke, and that Ohno would come back for the sculpture later. Instead, he finds that it’s a sketch of the sculpture, probably from when Ohno had first dreamt it up. It’s  _beautiful_ , and, like Ohno himself, a bit too much to handle at once. Jun rolls it back carefully, although somewhere at the back of his mind he’s already thinking of how to get it properly framed.   
  
At the edge of the paper are the words, “wishing Jun-kun the best Christmas”.  
  
Jun sits on the edge of his sofa, and thinks.   
  
He had probably set the temperature for his heater a little too high; he feels that it’s a little too warm.  
  
His phone rings. He looks at it blankly for a couple of seconds before picking up. “You have to take it back,” he says.  
  
He hears a soft laughter on the other side. “Come to the window.”  
  
Feeling a little startled by the mention of his windows, Jun hesitates. “Why.”  
  
“Isn’t it better to talk when you can see the other person?”  
  
He goes to the window – just to see, he tells himself – and sure enough, he could see Ohno’s figure in the distance. The apartment opposite his is really quite near, and Ohno’s place could be seen from his own, but he rarely sees Ohno when he looks out.   
  
“Hi,” Ohno says.  
  
“Hi,” he replies. “Will you please take it back? I really have no place to keep it, and it’d be bad if I have to stuff it in the storage or something.” He pauses. “I’ll keep the drawing, though, thank you.”  
  
“You could sell it,” Ohno suggests. “I signed it, you know. I’m told that I sell for –”  
  
“I’m sure,” Jun interrupts. “But.” He tries to think of a good way to reject the gift, but couldn’t. “I can’t.”  
  
“Mmmhmm.” Ohno doesn’t sound mad, or unhappy, at all. Jun almost breathes out a sigh of relief, which surprises him. He hadn’t realised that he’d been worried about that. He’s glad that Ohno couldn’t see his face clearly from the distance, and he’s glad that he couldn’t see Ohno clearly, because this way it’s easier for him to talk.  
  
It’s Nino’s fault, he thinks sourly. If Nino hadn’t put such a stupid idea in his head, he wouldn’t have been as self-conscious around Ohno.  
  
“Uhm,” he says. And stops, a little horrified. Even when he couldn’t see Ohno clearly, he still feels a mild panic inside. “So you’ll, uhm. Take it back?”  
  
“On one condition,” Ohno says, and Jun’s eyes narrow. He wonders if Ohno hadn’t been angling for some kind of favour in the first place.  
  
“What is it?” he asks, wary.  
  
“Tea.”  
  
“…what?”  
  
“Tea,” Ohno repeats. Somehow, even though he can’t see Ohno clearly, Jun’s pretty sure that Ohno’s wearing some kind of small, self-satisfied smile. “I’d like to go over to Jun-kun’s for some tea made by you. And breakfast, too,” he adds, as if only just deciding on that part.   
  
“Oh.” Jun frowns. “How long did you spend on the sculpture?”  
  
“Not long,” Ohno replies breezily, “It only took five days.”  
  
Ohno had spent that long working on Jun's "gift", and tea is all he needed to accept that Jun didn’t want it – or rather, is tea really all Ohno had been after? But – “breakfast,” Jun says. “Breakfast is good. Yes.”  
  
Minutes after Ohno hangs up and promises to be over, Jun’s still looking at the phone. It’s strange, he thinks. He normally wouldn’t have given in so easily, or at least not end the exchange while wondering what the hell had just happened. And the apartment really is a little too warm.  
  
Maybe he’ll get Aiba to look at it when he’s back the next day. Or maybe just a little warm is how he prefers things to be.   
  
But Ohno’s coming over, so he’ll think about that some other time.


End file.
